


let me breathe, everyone's begging for a piece

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Image, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cock Warming, Daddy Kink, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Hand Feeding, M/M, Nipple Play, Sub Steve Rogers, Tony says something bad to Steve but that is nothing new, Top Bucky Barnes, at least I think I would call him that, soft dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Steve’s body is a complicated subject.What complicated it most is the fact that it’s subject to so many people besides himself. He knew what he was signing up for when he took the serum, and there isn’t a bit of him that regrets making that choice. It had helped him save Bucky, after all. How could he regret that?It still doesn’t make the public’s obsession with his body any easier. The museums have entire exhibits dedicated to comparing his super solider physique to how he had been before the war. Hundreds of people go to see it every day, staring at blown up images of the before and after of his chest. After every press conference he goes to, there’s sure to be a segment on the morning news where at least one of the female hosts parrots off a written in joke about the width of his shoulders. Every time he steps outside of his apartment; he sees photos of himself later appear on social media thanks to paparazzi. That isn’t even mentioning the magazines, the gossip blogs, celebrity news sources, comments pouring in from hundreds of thousands of people, each with an opinion about Captain America’s body. He can’t get away from it.(alternatively: tender porn)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 272





	let me breathe, everyone's begging for a piece

**Author's Note:**

> title from body by Isaac Dunbar

Steve’s body is a complicated subject.

What complicated it most is the fact that it’s subject to so many people besides himself. He knew what he was signing up for when he took the serum, and there isn’t a bit of him that regrets making that choice. It had helped him save Bucky, after all. How could he regret that?

It still doesn’t make the public’s obsession with his body any easier. The museums have entire exhibits dedicated to comparing his super solider physique to how he had been before the war. Hundreds of people go to see it every day, staring at blown up images of the before and after of his chest. After every press conference he goes to, there’s sure to be a segment on the morning news where at least one of the female hosts parrots off a written in joke about the width of his shoulders. Every time he steps outside of his apartment; he sees photos of himself later appear on social media thanks to paparazzi. That isn’t even mentioning the magazines, the gossip blogs, celebrity news sources, comments pouring in from hundreds of thousands of people, each with an opinion about Captain America’s body. He can’t get away from it.

Not even in real life, apparently. He can shut off the news, can turn off his phone, can stop looking at Twitter. But still, it feels like everywhere he walks people are staring, whispering to each other. Some people even directly catcall him in a way that he would have punched any fella for doing to a girl back in the forties. They think it’s funny and he won’t care because he must be _used to it_. He expects it, at this point. But he still hates it. Dreads it. He tried the disguises Natasha had him wear on missions before, but there’s no masking exactly who he is thanks to the problem in question. His body. His stupid, perfect body and people’s trademark scrutiny that seems to come with it.

He can remember what it was like immediately after coming out the other side of the serum, how half the doctors in the room had stared at him in awe of their scientific achievement and the other half had stared at him in a way that made Steve feel like a piece of meat. Even Peggy, someone he was growing to trust, had looked at him that way. Had come up to him and touched his new chest with a quick hand, not asking permission, not waiting for him to say anything. It was quick, nothing that should have scarred him or anything.

But it’s the first time Steve can remember feeling the now familiar twinge of discomfort in his stomach at the way someone scrutinized his body.

It wasn’t as bad during the war. Everyone was too busy fighting for their lives to really look at him that way. Sure, the showgirls had gotten a little too leery in the beginning, but eventually he left them to go rescue Bucky.

_Bucky_. The only one who had truly seen his body during the before and after of it all. There had been that first initial moment Bucky had seen Steve in his new body and Steve had been terrified of the thought that Bucky, too, might not see him for himself anymore, blinded by the bulk of his lover’s new mass. But when it had come down to it, the look in Bucky’s eyes when he had whispered “I thought you were smaller” wasn’t one of critique or judgement. It was just a look of relief that Steve’s body was there at all, and Steve had loved him then for it and has continued to love him for it every day after.

Bucky is the only one who sees his body, truly, now. He’s the one that at the end of the day gets to kiss the dimples at the bottom of Steve’s spine, nose at the freckles on Steve’s shoulders, put his hands on the swell of Steve’s ass. He’s the only one who has ever had Steve’s body in _that_ way, _any_ way, and as far as Steve’s concerned, he’s the only one who ever will.

Bucky is the only one who gets to have Steve and his body in that way, but that doesn’t mean that he’s the only one who comments on it. Steve had had a twitter account for approximately ten minutes before he had cracked under the number of tweets concerning his ass, shoulders, thighs, biceps, waist, pecs, you name it. Some of them were good- or, _appreciative_ , he should say. Some of them were _bad_ and although he didn’t want their judgement in the first place, their disapproval made him sick to his stomach. He knows that other members of the team get attention like that, Bucky included, but it just- it isn’t nearly as bad as it is for them as it is for him. It was practically part of his ‘brand’. He hates it.

Part of him feels selfish for being so weak about it all. He knows women suffer from objectification and body scrutiny- probably far worse than he does, but he just- he can’t. It’s always so much, and it feels like it’s happening all the time, no matter what he’s doing, what he’s wearing, anything. It happens at least once no matter where he is or who he’s with, Bucky excluded but…friends included.

Maybe he’s just so fed up with it that he’s hypersensitive. He knows his friends are making harmless comments and jokes that probably wouldn’t bother anyone else, but he’s bothered. He’s really bothered.

It’s particularly bad today, or maybe Steve is just tired and emotional because he hasn’t seen Bucky in two days thanks to Fury scheduling him a mission. It’s date night, but Bucky won’t be getting back for another two hours so Steve is just curled up on a couch in the living room of the Avengers’ communal floor watching an episode of _Arrested Development_ on the flatscreen so he won’t have to be alone on his and Bucky’s floor.

He’s feeling tired and a little bit sad that he won’t be able to have a date with Bucky like usual. He misses him. Absentmindedly, he presses his thumb into the hickey Bucky had left on his collarbone a few days earlier, savoring in the tiny throb of pain it gives him when he pushes hard enough. He can’t have the real thing here with him, but at least he can have this. It’s maybe a little pathetic that this is what he resorts to for comfort when he misses his boyfriend, but he likes thinking about the way Bucky had looked at the mark afterwards, smiling and kissing him. “ _That’ll last you a few days, angel. Give you a reminder of who you belong to even when I’m gone,”_ he had said. Steve smiles faintly at the memory and pulls his thumb away. He likes it when Bucky says stuff like that. It makes him feel like he _does_ belong to him, Steve Rogers belonging to Bucky Barnes instead of Captain America belonging to the public.

It’s ruined when Tony walks in and sees the hickey, still exposed by Steve’s collar pushed aside. The skin is red around it from where Steve has been pushing at it, and it acts like a spotlight drawing attention to it. Tony’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Better watch out, Capsicle,” he comments gleefully, pushing into the kitchen and grabbing a Red Bull from the fridge. “Damages to government property might get Barnes and you in trouble with the law again!” He’s gone before Steve can even pull his eyes away from George Michael and Buster onscreen, chugging away at his drink and heading back down to his lab.

_Government property._

Steve feels cold, despite the fact that he’s wrapped in a blanket that Bucky crocheted him for Christmas.

Is that what he is? It is, isn’t it? By all technicalities. SHIELD was a government organization funded by taxpayers’ dollars. SHIELD and its founders had made his body into what it was today. He- his body belonged to them. Not to Bucky- he’s not…he’s not just Bucky’s. He wants to be, but he’s not, is he?

That isn’t the only part of the statement that makes him freeze

_Might get you and Barnes in trouble with the law again._ As if they hadn’t been threatened with that almost the entire time they had had the courage to love each other. By the laws in the forties. The army. Stark’s PR team. Even when it was legal, there were always requests that they keep it discreet. If what Tony said has any real gravity to it, who’s to say that they couldn’t take him away from Bucky? The thought terrifies him.

He switches off his show and stares blankly at the screen. He had come down here so he wouldn’t have to be alone, but now he thinks maybe he wants to be. He feels numb the entire time he heads back up to his floor.

When he arrives, he immediately heads into the bedroom and strips. He lets his clothes fall to the floor, not bothering to pick them up or kick them away, just piling them at his feet and staring straight ahead into the floor-length mirror that stands at the end of their bed. Bucky had bought it on a whim, promised to fuck him in front of it. He hadn’t gotten around to it yet, and as Steve gazes at his reflection, he thinks that maybe he’s not sure he wants that anymore.

Looking at his body in the mirror just feels like a reminder of all the negative feelings he has attached to it. The catcalling. The constant scrutiny. The never-ending comments from _everyone_. The entitlement for fans to touch him. And now, the fact that in a literal sense, the public _owns_ him. He hates it, he hates it, _he hates it._ He hates himself. He hates his body. He hates himself for hating such a _gift_ , a miracle, something that saved both his life and Bucky’s life.

He hates it. He wants to cry. No one is here to stop him.

Steve hesitates for a moment, eyes lingering on the dip of his hips, but jerks himself away and heads for the walk-in closet. He does what he always does when he’s upset and Bucky isn’t here. He heads for Bucky’s side of the closet. Thanks to his subconscious admission of how sad he is, he has to blink back sudden tears as he pulls one of Bucky’s sweaters off the shelf. Next, he goes over to his own side of the wardrobe, slides his underwear drawer open and digs into the very back, pulling out one of the pairs of panties Bucky had bought him when they last went shopping. He sniffs and walks out of the closet, shutting it quietly behind him and very pointedly not turning around as he changes so he won’t have the urge to look in the mirror again. He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to see himself.

The sweater is soft blue cashmere and it smells like Bucky. Steve wants to cry from it, sliding the delicate lace underwear Bucky had picked and bought for him up his legs. He’s surrounded by things that remind him of Bucky, things that would normally make him feel settled and owned, but right now it isn’t working. It isn’t sitting right, and he knows that it’s because of what Tony had said and how the words had hit an insecurity that he hadn’t even known existed.

He bites his lip to keep himself from sobbing outloud, finally letting the first tear slide down his face. He wants Bucky, but he won’t be back for at least another hour. He could call him…could ask him to tell him who he belonged to, but Bucky is on a plane with their coworkers, and he shouldn’t have to slip away to the bathroom just to tell his pathetic weepy boyfriend that his Daddy owns him, but Steve wants it, wants his Daddy, wants his collar and his marks _so bad_.

He shouldn’t be selfish, he convinces himself, so he slides into Bucky’s side of the bed instead and curls up under the covers, pressing his face into the pillow and trying not to start fully crying. It doesn’t work. The tears are leaking out faster than he can comfort himself, and he’s getting Bucky’s pillowcase all wet. He hates himself for that, too.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, crying and spiraling around the fact that everyone seems to be entitled to his body except himself, but he jerks out of his emotional spiral when he hears the elevator ding, signaling that someone has arrived at their floor. The only people allowed to enter without notifying them is each other, so it has to be Bucky back from his mission.

There’s an agonizing few seconds where Steve tears himself between scrambling to clean himself up so he can front to Bucky as if everything is okay or just lying there and letting Daddy come kiss him and ask him what’s wrong. By the time he’s leaning towards the first option, it’s too late because Bucky is already walking in their bedroom. He zeroes in on Steve’s huddled form immediately. Steve buries his face in the pillow again so Bucky won’t see his tears, knows it’s in vain, but can’t deny himself the effort.

Bucky strides over, already shedding his jacket and gloves so he can sit crouch by the edge of the bed and reach out to stroke Steve’s hair. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greets gently. Steve doesn’t answer, knowing his voice is too hoarse. Bucky presses on anyways. “You seem upset, baby, you wanna talk about it or do you want me to give you a little space?”

Steve has to bolt upright at that, startled by the idea. “No, Bucky, please don’t leave,” he begs brokenly, twisting to throw his arms around Bucky’s neck. Bucky lets out a grunt at the force of it, and Steve wants to die. He doesn’t even know the strength of this body, still. He doesn’t want it right now, just wants to go back to how it was before when he was smaller and was just Bucky’s and not _everyone’s. “Please,”_ he whispers.

Bucky makes a shushing sound and hugs him tight. “I won’t, Steve, I won’t. I gotta get out of these clothes, though, sunshine. You mind if I let go for a second, or do you wanna help?” he asks. His voice is soothing, and Steve relaxes the slightest bit at the thought of doing something for his dom.

“I wanna help,” he murmurs. He doesn’t wanna stop touching Bucky if he can help it right now. He can’t stand the thought of it. Bucky hums and loosens his arms, standing himself up and helping Steve into a kneeling position on the bed, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Let go of me now and start undoing my pants,” Bucky commands. Steve is quick to obey, and as he does so, Bucky raises his arms and strips off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. When he’s done, he removes Steve’s hands from his belt and brings them back up to rest against the pulse of his neck. With Steve’s hands gone, he shoves down his pants and steps out of them, leaving him only in his underwear. “You’re always so helpful, sweet sub,” he praises. Steve whines a little at the endearment and Bucky smiles, tilting his chin up and bringing his lips in for a gentle kiss. “Let’s get into bed,” he suggests after he pulls back. “I wanna cuddle you, Stevie, I’ve missed you real bad.”

Steve knows that’s true, but he also knows it’s mostly an excuse for Bucky to weasel an answer out of him as to why he’s upset. He nods anyways, but inwardly he’s a little bit sad. He wants his collar, but they’re not actively doing a scene right now and he doesn’t know it it’s okay to ask. Bucky picks up on his unhappiness and pauses from where he’s lowering them onto the mattress.

“What’s wrong, little sub?”

Steve bites his lip and hides his face in Bucky’s shoulder. He braves himself enough to ask for what he wants. “Can I have my collar, please, Daddy?” he requests in a quiet voice. Bucky squeezes him tighter for a moment and kisses his hair.

“Of course you can, darling. You want me to carry you so I can go get it?” Steve nods, glad that Bucky always seems to know how to give him what he needs. Bucky lifts him up, hands coming down to grab at his ass. Steve’s legs wrap around his waist and he hands off him like a clingy kitten as Bucky walks to their closet, opens it, and pulls Steve’s collar from a drawer. Bucky has to notice the panties and sweater Steve is in, and he knows that Steve always dresses like that when he’s particularly sad, but he doesn’t comment. Not yet. Instead, he brings them back over to the bed and lays them both down under the covers, positioning himself on his back so Steve is tucked on top of him. He settles down comfortably and brushes Steve’s hair off his forehead. “Honey, lift your head up so I can collar you,” he orders.

Steve listens, purposely not making eye contact while Bucky clips the simple white leather collar around his neck, fastening the silver buckle shut and straightening the tag. My _Sweet Little Sub,_ it reads. Usually when Bucky collars him, it gives him a rush of relief, but at that moment, Steve feels like anything _but_ that. He tears up and drops his face again to hide it, embarrassed. Bucky isn’t letting it slide anymore.

“Steve, what’s got you so upset? I need you to tell me so I can help, angel. Please.” His voice is kind but firm, and Steve doesn’t want to argue with him. He wants to tell him so he can make it better, but a part of him is terrified that Bucky might not be able to, or worse, he might _agree_. Steve knows that last part is irrational, but that doesn’t make him feel it any less.

“Just sad, Daddy,” he tries to deflect, wiggling on top of Bucky so he can tuck his head under Bucky’s chin. “Missed you,” he adds, hoping the partial truth with be enough for Bucky to fall for it. He doesn’t.

“I missed you, too. Daddy needs you to tell him what’s really wrong, sweet sub. Be good for me.” Steve almost scowls. That’s just playing _dirty_. Bucky knows that Steve’s biggest desire is to be good for him. He almost never acts up for his Daddy, and right now isn’t any different. He’s going to obey, he knows he is, but the words are just hard to get out. It’s scary. Bucky, as always, picks up on his wariness and decides to do something more drastic about it. “Tell me and I’ll let you warm my cock as a reward, darling,” he says. “I’ll put on a record and you can warm me up while I cuddle you and tell you about my trip, yeah? I’ll even feed you if you want, little sub.”

That’s pretty much Steve’s perfect package deal. He loves all of the things Bucky just offered, and at this Steve does frown petulantly. Bucky knows just how to make him do what he wants, and he loves it just as much as he hates it. He takes in a deep breath and starts speaking, voice tiny against Bucky’s bare chest.

“Tony said something to me,” he begins, and Bucky makes an annoyed noise. Tony always says something to Steve that bothers him, and Steve knows that Bucky doesn’t really like the guy because of it. If he’s honest, sometimes Steve doesn’t like him either, but that’s just how family can be. He goes on. “He- he called me _government_ _property_. Said we might get in trouble for you marking me up.” Steve has to whisper the last words, like they’re something awful. To him, they are. He’s voicing what feels to him like very real fears, both past and present.

Bucky jostles him a little with how he startles. “He said what?” he demands. Steve lifts his head and gives Bucky a wide-eyed look. “That’s not true, Steve. I don’t know why he would say that,” Bucky shakes his head. “That’s not funny.” Steve knows it isn’t, not after how they manipulated him with HYDRA infiltrating SHIELD and turned Bucky into a weapon. Not after Steve had gone to hell and back for loving Bucky already.

“He was joking,” Steve says self-consciously. “I was just- being sensitive. It shouldn’t bother me but…” he trails off and Bucky tugs on his hair to force their eyes to meet.

“But?” he prompts.

Steve flushes as his eyes well up again. He’s gonna have to say it. Saying it makes it real. “But it scared me and- I get sad a lot because people- they talk about my body _all the time_.” It’s like it’s all spilling out now that he’s finally speaking up. “Every time I leave the apartment someone says something, it’s like it’s all they care about sometimes, Daddy,” he rushes emotionally. He’s crying, again. “I can’t get away from it, and sometimes I just feel like people are judging it all the time and like they see me as some sort of object, and it’s been like that for so long, and I hate it, Daddy. I hate it,” he sobs. Bucky just holds him close as he talks through it, rocking him a little and kissing his forehead. “They don’t even see me as a real person, Daddy, and the only thing that made it better was knowing that I belong to you and not them, but then he said- he said-“ Steve can’t even repeat the phrase again, just buries his head in Bucky’s neck and cries.

Bucky is quick to respond now that Steve is done, cradling the back of Steve’s head with his palm and ordering him gently. “Suckle on my neck, baby, I know it’ll help you feel better.” Steve whimpers with the sorely needed direction and obeys, latching onto Bucky’s skin and letting Bucky’s warmth and soothing strokes of his hair help calm him. He feels better now that it’s out. Lighter.

Bucky speaks up after a minute of silence filled only with the sound of Steve’s soft sighs. “I know you know we can’t control other people. I’m sorry I can’t make everyone treat you and see you like you really deserve, baby, I’m sorry I can’t take all the bad feelings away. But what I can tell you, Steve, is you are not an object, you are not someone’s property, not even mine.” At that, Steve lets out a devastated cry and rips himself from Bucky’s neck, looking at him with betrayal.

“Daddy,” he says brokenly but Bucky just quiets him with a passionate kiss and breaks away from it, leaning their foreheads together.

“Stevie, that doesn’t mean you aren’t still _mine_ ,” he assures softly. “Baby, you’re your own person. You own _yourself_ , but you’re _mine_ because you give yourself to me. You’re mine because _you_ let yourself belong to me, do you understand?” He’s looking at Steve with an intensity that makes his breath hitch.

The words wash over Steve like a revelation.

He’s Bucky’s because he gives himself to him. He’s still Bucky’s. The certainty of this brings him a dizzying amount of relief, and all he can breathe is “ _oh”_ before he’s capturing Bucky in a desperate kiss. It isn’t a solution to everything. Bucky can’t make other people treat him better- besides maybe Tony, with the right amount of threatening- but the promise that he’s still Bucky’s and not some sort of public property gives him a feeling of absolution.

He belongs to Bucky. Only Bucky, because he’s the only one that Steve will let have him. It’s relieving and freeing at the same time. He’s still owned, collared by Bucky in his bed, his clothes, his arms. Steve moans at the certainty of it, gripping on to Bucky tight.

Bucky slips his tongue in to dominate the kiss and Steve whimpers, hips already beginning to shift to rub his lace covered cock against Bucky’s bulge. When Bucky breaks the kiss, Steve whines pitifully. “Daddy, please,” he begs, trying to rub his cock against Bucky’s thickening erection some more, but Bucky shakes his head with a fond smile.

“Aw, little sub, I promised you a reward, remember?” he coos. Steve begins to pout, but Bucky fits a finger underneath his collar and pulls him forward with a stern look. “Don’t be bratty,” he warns. Steve makes a sad noise and Bucky smirks at him. “Aw, baby boy, don’t you wanna warm my cock? I promised you, after all. Gonna put on some music, open you up nice and slow and sit my sweet sub down on my hard cock, yeah? Get us some dinner, feed you from my hand, let you drink some of Daddy’s wine? Doesn’t that sound nice, baby?” Steve has to nod. It _does_ sound nice, and he wants it, but he also wants to get _fucked_. Bucky notices his petulant look and laughs a little, reaching down to squeeze at Steve’s stiffened dick though his panties, causing Steve to breathe heavy. “Aw, kitten, if you’re sweet to Daddy while you warm his cock up, I’ll fuck you afterwards, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Steve is satisfied by the promise, sighing contentedly as Bucky lifts him from the bed again and carries him towards the kitchen so they can go start dinner together.

Bucky sets him on the counter when they get into the kitchen and Steve shivers at the feeling of cold marble against the skin of his ass left uncovered by his underwear. He grips onto Bucky tighter for a second, and Bucky chuckles fondly. “You wanna help me cook, baby, or do you just wanna watch?”

Steve decides immediately to help. He likes feeling like he’s doing something for Bucky. “I’ll help,” he offers shyly. Bucky lets him go, but crinkles his nose at him and kisses his forehead before stepping back and turning to wash his hands, gesturing for Steve to join him.

“C’mon, wash up.” When Steve slips down from the counter and comes to stand beside him at the sink, Bucky smiles at him and bumps their shoulders together. Steve smiles back and leans his head against Bucky’s for a second, still feeling a little unsteady from how upset he was earlier, but overall content. “My sweet little helper,” Bucky hums. “Why don’t you go put a couple rolls in the oven, sub, I’ll start cutting up some of that eggplant you like and fry it up. Anything else you want, baby? I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten since lunch. I’m starving.”

Steve slides away to preheat the oven while Bucky goes to the cabinet and starts pulling out ingredients so he can make fried Japanese eggplant, one of Steve’s favorite things to eat from his hands. He likes sucking the seasoning off Bucky’s fingers. “Maybe some cashew chicken?” he suggests. “I know it’s a little messy for hand-feeding, but I could clean you up, Daddy,” he says sweetly, just to preen at the way Bucky turns and gives him a look.

“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble with that mouth, brat,” he says without heat, just an amused eye roll. “But that sounds good to me. Shouldn’t take too long to make, anyways.”

It doesn’t. About thirty minutes later, they’re nearly finished with it all, and Bucky sends Steve away into the bedroom with a swat on his ass and an order to “pick out some music and get pretty on the bed, angel”. Steve is more than happy to obey, heading off with a bottle of Bucky’s favorite red wine tucked under his arm and glass in hand. When he gets to the bedroom, he sets the glass on Bucky’s nightstand so he can pop the cork and pour a glass. After he’s done with that, he slides to his knees so he can pick a record out from the small crate under Bucky’s bed. Bucky keeps all his classical records over here. They only really play them when they’re having a night like this.

He selects _Gymnopedies and Gnossiennes_ by Erik Satie, one of Bucky’s favorite composers, something serene and slow, long enough to last however long they’ll be at this. They both like the background noise, find that it settles them both. He’s just started it on the record player sitting on their dresser, soft notes beginning to fill the room, when Bucky walks in, plate in hand, walking over to his side of the bed to set the food next to the wine.

He looks beautiful, like this. Still mostly naked, golden skin on display, soft smile on his face. Steve adores him, and he has the sudden urge to go sit at his feet, so he does, stumbling over on legs that suddenly feel wobbly. When he gets to him, he sinks to his knees between Bucky’s feet and leans his head against his knee.

“What’re you doing, sweet boy?” Bucky asks gently. He sits on the edge of the bed and Steve nudges himself into the space between his legs, pressing his head into the hand that comes up to scratch at his scalp. “We got plans, remember?”

Plans? Steve already feels a little floaty, so he has to think a moment. Oh. Plans. That involve his boyfriend’s cock in his ass. He whines at the thought of it, and pushes himself up to climb onto Bucky’s lap. “Want your cock, Daddy, please,” he begs quietly, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck. The man chuckles and runs a hand down his back to dip into the waistband of his panties, fingers stroking at his cleft and the dimples in his spine.

“Gotta open you up first, darling boy. Gotta make it quick, too, don’t want our food getting cold.” He tugs at the lace, pulling it down, and Steve lifts his hips a little so Bucky can move them out of the way and stroke over his hole. “Can you get off me and get on your back for me? I gotta get the lube,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear. Steve moans a little at the pressure of Bucky’s fingers, but nods, clambering off and settling on his back in the middle of the mattress, pulling off his panties the rest of the way and spreading his legs further. Bucky leans over to open his nightstand drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and pack of sanitizing wipes. What? He loves his boyfriend _and_ his ass but the prospect of feeding them both from fingers that were just in Steve’s hole is filthy in a way that doesn’t pique his interests. Rimming considered, it isn’t _actually_ that bad, but he still doesn’t want to do it.

Drizzling lube on his flesh hand, he kneels on the bed between Steve’s legs and smiles down at him adoringly before pressing one at his hole, rubbing at it a bit before sinking in and curling around a little. Steve sighs at the feeling and flutters his eyes shut. Bucky doesn’t draw it out, genuinely not wanting their dinner to grow cold. He makes quick work of it, and by the time he deems Steve ready for him, the blonde is panting and squirming. Bucky gentles his desperate noises and sits him up, pulling his fingers free and moving to sit against the headboard, pillow propped behind him.

“Climb on me, sweetheart, make yourself comfortable on my cock, okay?” He says gently. Steve nods and obeys, pulling down the band of Bucky’s briefs to free his dick. Bucky lifts up so Steve can slide them down his legs, kicks them off and sits back comfortably, watching with half lidded eyes as Steve straddles him and positions himself so he can spread his cheeks with one hand and begin lowering himself on Bucky’s cock. They both hiss as Bucky’s head pops inside the hole, but Steve’s noises grow higher pitched the further he sinks down. “You feel good, little sub?” Bucky asks roughly, gripping at Steve’s hip with his metal hand to steady him. Steve bites his lip and nods frantically.

“Yeah, Daddy,” he breathes. Bucky smiles, and accidentally on purpose shifts his hips in order to grab the wet wipes. Steve cries out a little and his cock twitches. He gives Bucky a weak glare. “ _Daddy_ ,” he grits out. “Don’t tease.”

Bucky snorts and finishes wiping his hand clean, discarding it to sit on the nightstand. He picks up the plate of food instead and brings it towards them. He has to do a bit of maneuvering to figure out a good position to both hold the plate and hold Steve in, but he ends up just setting it carefully next to them on the bed and lifting up the first bit of chicken with his fingers to hold by Steve’s mouth.

Steve opens his mouth for it immediately and licks the sauce off of Bucky’s fingers afterwards, chewing and humming appreciatively. “’S good, Daddy,” he murmurs dreamily, leaning his head forward to settle on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky puts a hand on his neck and pulls at his collar slightly in affection.

“Thank you, Stevie.” They continue like this, trading bites of sweet chicken with crispy eggplant and sweet bites of a roll Bucky tears pieces of to share between them, sips of wine offered to Steve to wash it all down. Bucky didn’t bother to bring a fork for himself, so eventually Steve takes a turn at trying to feed his dom instead, which makes Bucky laugh and pat his ass. “You tryin’ to be _my_ Daddy now?” he teases after Steve slips him a bite of eggplant with a reverent expression.

Steve blushes at the indication and shakes his head. “I’d be a terrible Daddy,” he jokes back. “And you’d never listen to anything I told you to do, we both know it.” Bucky just grins fondly at him and doesn’t deny it.

They finish the plate fairly fast and Bucky moves it to the nightstand to deal with later. The chicken was a messy choice for eating like this, and while some people might find it gross, Steve licks Bucky’s fingers clean with every bite either of them take. He likes being helpful, sue him. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, just looks at him fondly and pets at his ass a little. It makes Steve feel fulfilled. He’s content, like this, stomach and ass filled, soft music in the background and his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around him, his half hard cock trapped safely between them.

He’s content, but that’s not to say that he isn’t pleased when Bucky’s hand finds its way under the sweater he’s still in to start pinching at his nipples. He sighs contentedly and clenches a little around Bucky’s cock still buried inside him, growing to a whimper when Bucky’s other hand comes up to pull on his collar from the back, effectively cutting a little into his airflow and serving him a heady reminder that Bucky has him claimed in almost every sense right now.

“You like that, little sub?” Bucky says huskily into his ear. Steve pitches forward more to start mouthing at Bucky’s neck, making a pleased sound. The phrase is reminiscent of occasions where Bucky has gotten much meaner with him, but right now he’s all sweetness and soft touches. Steve likes this just as much as he likes when Bucky is rougher. Bucky hums and lets go of the collar. “I know I said I’d fuck you if you were sweet, angel,” he says conversationally, stroking a hand down Steve’s back. “And I will, but I think I wanna take my time with you tonight, baby. I missed you, makes me wanna mark you up and remind you who you belong to, yeah?”

Steve pulls back from Bucky’s neck and looks at him pleadingly. He doesn’t wanna _wait_ anymore. “Daddy,” he insists, slightly embarrassed to sound so pathetic. “I need it, you’re already in me,” he begs, clenching down and rutting forward a little to remind Steve of how hard he is trapped between them. “I was good.” He adds on the last bit for extra measure, hoping Bucky will take pity on him and give him what he wants, but Bucky doesn’t budge, just leans forward to kiss him possessively, teeth biting into his bottom lip.

“You’re always so good for me, Stevie, but who’s in charge?” he asks when he pulls away, and Steve knows it’s rhetorical from the look in his eye. “ _Daddy is_.” With that, Bucky smiles lazily at him and shifts his hips to angle himself deeper. Steve shivers with it and Bucky continues on conversationally, pushing up at Steve’s sweater until his chest is exposed. “Lift your arms up.” Steve obeys, and Bucky tucks the excess of the sweater under his armpits so the front is pulled tight above his nipples, which harden in the cooler air of the bedroom. “Put them behind your back now, darling, that’s a good boy.”

Steve’s chest is pushed out like this, right at eye level for Bucky. He blinks down at his boyfriend, head a little foggy. With the sweater out of the way, his achingly hard cock is on display between them, tip wet with pre-come. He swallows and makes eye contact with Bucky, flicking his eyes down to it with an imploring gaze. Bucky smiles, saccharine sweet, and for a moment, Steve thinks he’ll show mercy, give Steve what he wants.

He doesn’t. Instead, carefully avoiding touching Steve’s cock at all, he leans forward and nuzzles his face against Steve’s pecs, bringing up both hands to push the muscles together in two perfect handfuls. He groans, burying his face in the created cleavage. Bucky hasn’t shaved since before he left for his mission, so his jaw is covered in a stubble that turns the pale, sensitive skin of Steve’s chest red and irritated. He pulls back for a look and his dick twitches inside Steve, who whimpers from the dual sensations.

“I’m sorry, babydoll,” Bucky rasps. His voice is apologetic, but Steve can see the satisfied look in his eyes. “Did I mark you up? I got your poor titties all pink, didn’t I?” He pauses, licking his lips and looking thoughtfully up at Steve, who is panting. He smiles, and it’s predatory. “Look at them, Steve. Tell me.”

Gasping out a breath, Steve lowers his gaze to look at his chest. It’s a mess, covered in pink friction burns that make Steve feel hot to look at. His voice is weak when he responds. “You got my- my tits pink, Daddy,” he admits, squirming a little and flexing his hands behind his back.

“Want me to make it better, sweet sub?”

Steve can’t nod fast enough.

At Steve’s go ahead, Bucky immediately buries his face in his tits again, this time laving his tongue over the irritated patches, sucking soft, tender kisses into the skin and leaving his entire chest slick, cold where the air touches it. Bucky is slow about it, no matter how much Steve desperately moans. It’s good, but it’s excruciating with how slow Bucky is going, and Steve cries out when Bucky sucks at his nipple directly, worrying the other one between his metal fingers.

“Daddy, please!” he gasps, arms fighting to stay behind his back. He wants to bury his hands in Bucky’s hair, he wants to touch his cock, he wants _so much_ , but what he wants most of all is for Bucky to fuck him, god damn it. Bucky’s cock is still rock hard inside him, and all Steve can do is whine and clench around him with each swipe of Bucky’s quick tongue against his tits.

Bucky just switches nipples, and Steve cries out again in frustration.

“Want me to fuck you?” Bucky says teasingly once he pops off. He brings one of his hands up to grip at Steve’s chin so hard Steve is afraid it might bruise, wants it to. Bucky’s mouth is red and swollen, glossy with spit. Much like Steve’s entire chest right now.

Steve is about ready to _sob_ with how much he wants it. “Yes, Sir, Daddy, please. Want it so bad,” he whispers brokenly, eyes welling up with the way Bucky smirks at him and moves his arms from behind his back so he can push the sweater over his head and leave him completely naked.

Once the sweater is shed, Bucky looks at him thoughtfully and glances down at his neglected cock. “Looks like your pretty dick is a little desperate, huh, sweetheart?” Steve looks down too and blushes at how red and slick it looks. He looks like he could come from just a few touches, and at this point- maybe he could, but he doesn’t want to end this without Bucky fucking him and he tells him as much, voice soft and pleading. Bucky just chuckles and pats his face, reaching down to circle Steve’s cock with a tight hand around his base. Steve’s breath hitches. “Oh, my good boy, you should know that one orgasm won’t end things for us,” Bucky says, sounding endeared. He leans in to whisper, hot into Steve’s ear: _“This ends when_ I _say so.”_

Bucky uses that as signal for him to start quickly pumping at Steve’s cock, hand a devastating combination of tight and fast that has Steve’s strung out dick on the edge in moments. “Bucky-Daddy, please,” Steve begs hysterically, hands gripping at both of Bucky’s shoulders, metal and flesh alike. “Daddy, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

“Then come, darling,” Bucky says firmly but kindly. “You can come whenever you want for the rest of the night, I won’t stop you.” He sounds so sweet, but the pace he’s taking on Steve’s cock is brutal, and it isn’t long before Steve is spilling into his climax, whimpering as he shoots off all over Bucky’s hand and their abdomens.

There’s a dizzying few seconds where Bucky just _keeps going,_ milking out Steve’s sensitive dick until his sub is mewling and scratching at his shoulders from the pleasure-pain. Part of Steve wants to push him off, but part of him wants to beg Bucky to keep going, and both ideas float around in his blissed-out brain. He’s relieved when Bucky makes the decision for him and pulls his hand away, shushing him gently.

“So sweet for me, Stevie, you’re always so sweet,” he croons. Steve just gazes at him with parted lips, blue eyes glazed over. Bucky brings up his come-covered hand and holds it against Steve’s lips for him to clean. He does so, and Bucky praises him for it the entire time, leaving his brain floating pleasantly.

He’s so blissed out that he barely notices Bucky’s hips shifting to start thrusting inside him, but it doesn’t take him long to catch up. He gasps wetly and throws his arms around Bucky’s neck, hiding his face. Bucky huffs out a laugh and strokes his hair, working his hips at a slow pace. They’re both breathless from it, but Bucky continues to spout filth regardless.

“You take my cock so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs into Steve’s neck. “Kept it warm for me, now you’re making it feel good. Always taking care of it, of me, right, sugar?” Steve responds with a tiny noise, and Bucky keeps going, starting to fuck into him faster, tight grip on one of his hips. “I like taking care of you, too, baby. Always take care of what’s mine, and that’s what you are. All mine. No one else has ever had you, no one else ever will as long as you give yourself to me, sugar. As long as you belong to me.”

He’s well and truly fucking Steve now, slamming his hips up to slap against Steve’s ass at a bruising pace. Steve can’t do anything but whimper into his neck, head swimming with all the nice things Bucky is saying to him, still soothing the previous insecurities Steve had been feeling. His cock is hard again thanks to the serum, and Steve can feel how close he’s already getting. He’s Bucky’s. Bucky is his, and no one else can have him as long as Bucky is around. No one.

That knowledge makes him feel warm. Protected. Owned.

Bucky isn’t done, though. He keeps going, grunting at the pace he’s keeping but growling into Steve’s ear, “you’re mine, sweetheart, ‘til the day I die and after, you got it?”

Steve cries out at Bucky starts slamming into his prostate, letting out choked little moans with every thrust, nails digging into Bucky’s skin. “I’m yours, Daddy, I’m always yours,” he gasps out. Bucky chuckles darkly into his ear, and Steve can feel in his stomach that his orgasm is close, but he doesn’t want to come for a second time before Bucky has even had his first, so he bites out “Daddy, are you close?” in a plaintive tone that makes Bucky groan.

“Yeah, honey, I’m close,” he grits out, and from the pulse of his dick, Steve can tell that he’s telling the truth. Suddenly desperate to make his boyfriend cum, Steve starts working his hips down to meet Bucky’s powerful thrusts, tightening himself around Bucky’s dick and moaning sweetly each time Bucky hits his prostate.

His efforts don’t go unnoticed. A few thrusts later and Bucky is grunting out “oh, sugar” and spilling into Steve’s ass, filling him up, claiming him even more. It’s that thought that sends Steve over the edge too, adding to the cooled mess on their stomachs with a feminine moan. They both fall limp, exhausted, and lie still for a second before Bucky jostles a half asleep Steve off his chest while fishing out another wet-wipe, this time to clean off their stomachs. Steve lifts his head and yawns, replacing himself to his previous position when Bucky is done.

“I love you, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, pulling Steve tighter to his chest and kissing his hair.

Steve smiles sleepily and looks up at him to reply sincerely, “I love you, too, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles back at him and brushes at his hair, kissing his eyelids, nose, and forehead, before pulling back. “You wanna sleep like this for a while?” he asks, referring to his softening cock, still inside Steve. Steve bites his lip and nods, a little flushed. Bucky smiles affectionately at him and kisses him on the lips this time before pulling back to murmur against his mouth. “Fine by me, baby. Go to sleep now.” He reaches over and switches off the lamp.

They fall asleep with the Erik Satie’s record still playing softly in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> steve downplays some of his feelings here (ie; thinking women have it worse so he shouldn't be upset, he's just being sensitive) but he should not do so. his feelings on all of this are very valid! anyways I hope you enjoyed my self projection fit, come visit me on tumblr at mareviils.


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